


Nothing But Trouble

by ShinyHyacinth



Category: Sam Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Soulless!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyHyacinth/pseuds/ShinyHyacinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a demon hunt goes wrong, the Winchester brothers are there to save the life of one young hunter. But when Sam decides to pay her a visit later on, she finds out how much trouble a Winchester, particularly a soulless one, can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twobroken-brothers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=twobroken-brothers).



> This is a gift fic for twobroken-brothers, on Tumblr. I offered a ficlet to her of her choice, and she chose sweaty, dirty-smudged Sam after a good demon fight. After some deliberation I made it Soulless!Sam, not only because it made more sense than regular!Sam, but because sex with soulless!Sam has got to be intense. Short but sweet, as fics go. Anyways, as always, critiques are welcome!

Your shoulder hit the ground hard as you rolled, your feet scrambling against the pavement almost before your torso was ready to move again, your heart pounding in your chest. You got to your feet, moving for cover behind the nearby dumpster with your back pressed against it as you inched around to get a look back at the demon who had just thrown you.  
He still stood in the middle of the parking lot, a smirk on his face, his arms raised. You leaned back and took a deep breath, cursing for a third time that you hadn’t brought backup on this hunt, and pulled a small book out of your breast pocket. Rubbing the dirt and oil away from your nose with your jacket sleeve, you murmured the Latin words to yourself to be sure you had it memorized correctly, then tucked the book away again and took out a flask filled with holy water as you considered your next move.  
A soft footfall just on the other side of the dumpster told you the time for indecision was over. If you could piss him off enough to follow you, you might be able to catch him in that Devil’s Trap you had put on the freeway some distance back.  
If you could run fast enough.  
Not giving yourself time to doubt, you stood and swung the flask in an arc, the water splashing across the demon’s face and chest, a raccous screech echoing across the empty lot as the flesh began to bubble and sizzle where the holy water had touched. You turned and booked as fast as your feet could carry you, both hands holding your pistol down by your thigh as you ran, dodging inbetween buildings as you made your way back to the highway.   
The loud cursing and crashing behind you told you the demon wasn’t far behind, and you dove around a parked car as you spotted the highway through the gap in the buildings ahead of you. You moved sideways as the noise behind you ceased, darting for the shadows of the nearest house as you scanned the area quickly.  
Nowhere in sight.   
The hair on the back of your neck stood up, and you instinctively ducked, the hand that had been aimed for your throat instead slamming into the wood panelling behind you, splintering it as the demon cursed and struggled to remove itself. You got to your feet and trained the pistol on it, backing away slowly, glancing over your shoulder to verify the distance to the highway. The demon ripped free of the siding, turning black eyes on you as a wicked grin spread over the marred face. It took a few steps towards you, cocking its head and grinning maliciously at you before leaping for you at lightning pace.  
Ready for this, you immediately turned and launched yourself over the stretch of blacktop, the demon landing squarely in the middle of the road…and the middle of the Devil’s Trap.  
“Gotcha, gorgeous.” You said with a smug grin, standing and dusting yourself off as it screamed epithets at you from within the protective design. “Now now. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” it glared balefully at you, and you shoved your pistol into your thigh holster and dug a rosary out of your pocket.  
“Time to wash you mouth out with soap.” You held up the crucifix and began chanting in Latin. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas,”  
“Stoooooopp!” it shrieked, black smoke beginning to wisp out of its ears and mouth, its black eyes flaring and glowing in the night. It lunged for the edge of the circle, and you took an involuntary step back…tripping over a root at the edge of the road. Your foot flailed out as you tried to catch your balance, scuffing the side of the trap’s design, and and you landed on your behind, breathless, as you struggled to finish the exorcism before the thing escaped.  
“… omnis…omnis..” you gasped, and the demon lunged forward, catching you around the throat and preventing further speech. It snarled at you, the flesh of its face burned and melted where the holy water had scored, and you felt your eyes fluttering as blackness began to close in on the edges of your vision, and you fancied you heard the roar of a car engine just before…  
Some thing hurtled out of nowhere and, the demon loosed his grip suddenly. You dropped to the ground, gasping for air through a contracted windpipe, and looked to the right. Your eyes found a tan jacket stretched across broad shoulders on the figure that now straddled the demon on the ground.  
“Finish it!” the man bellowed as the demon began to struggle, bucking his not inconsiderable weight into the air, jumping to your feet and you coughing as you opened your mouth and finished the exorcism.  
“Omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!” The demon screamed, black smoke pouring from mouth, nose, ears and eyes as the body convulsed. You fell to your knees on the pavement, wiping absently at a dribble of blood from your nose.  
“Not bad.” The man rolled off the inert body and stood, wiping his forehead with a sleeve. You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head and introduce yourself, and he gives you a charming smile, looking down at you.  
“I’m Sam.” He extends a dirty, grease and blood covered hand, then quickly retracts it. “Ugh, sorry.” He rubs his palms against his jeans, and you get a better look at him as he turns to the lifeless body. His plaid shirt stretches across a broad chest, his tan jacket only serving to make him look larger from behind. His worn, dirty bluejeans are nonetheless well-fitted, hugging his rear and thighs as he bends down to pick up the dead man. He’s covered in splashes of blood, cuts here and there, and sweaty from the exertion of the hunt.  
He really is gorgeous.  
“Better deal with this before any questions arise.” he says, flashing you a smile, and you fall into step with him as he moves along the side of the road towards a set of headlights in the distance.  
“Yo, Sammy.” A voice calls, and a figure moves into the headlights, and when your eyes adjust, you find piercing green ones staring at you. “Who’s she?”  
“Hunter.” Sam grunts, shifting the weight of the body in his arms. “My brother Dean.” With that, he moves around the other side of the vehicle, seeking a spot for his cargo.  
Dean eyes you skeptically for a moment, green eyes taking in your form dubiously. You rest one hand on your pistol and meet his gaze levelly, until finally he gives you half a smile.  
“Fine. You’re welcome.” He turns and walks back to the car. Your brow creases with confusion.  
“Excuse me?”  
“For saving your skin.” Dean gives you an ingratiating smile as he opens the drivers door, and you see Sam’s dark head pop up from behind the trunk lid, frowning.  
“She was doing just fine.” He said in a low tone, moving around the other side of what (when you squinted against the headlight glare) appeared to be an Impala. He walked over to you, and set a hand on your shoulder as you raised an eyebrow at him. “I just helped a little at the end. She did the work.”  
“Uh-huh. C’mon, Sammy, I’m starving.” Dean slid into the drivers seat, pointedly ignoring your glare. Sam turned to you, rubbing the back of his shaggy head.  
“Want a ride?” he asks with a dazzling smile. You started to explain that you had a car a few streets over, but faltered as you saw the expression in his eyes. Finally you sighed and nodded. His eyes lit up, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he opened the door to the backseat for you.  
Dean gave his brother a look that said ‘Seriously?’, but put the car in gear and moved onto the blacktop.   
“My car’s a few streets over.” You say, leaning forward. You’re seated behind Sam, and as you set your hands on the edge of his seat to draw yourself forward, your hands brush over his jacket and neck. He gives a shiver, and you smile softly as you glance over at him and notice that he’s grinning at you.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Dean growls under his breath, and drives faster.

 

 

 

Some time later, you’re in your hotel room, packing up your stuff to leave. With the demon finished, it’s time to move onto the next job. You hear a knock on the door, and pick up your pistol as you pad softly over to it and peer out the curtained window.  
It’s Sam.  
You open the door, smiling out at him.   
“Hey Sam. What’s up?” He’s breathing hard, and his skin is glistening with sweat. One cut adorns his cheek, and you frown slightly. “You ok?”  
“We were ambushed when we got back to our hotel. We handled it. Thought I’d come pay you a visit to make sure you didn’t have the same problem.” He nods and smiles, and you notice for the first time that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Concerned, you reach up and gingerly touch the skin around the cut with your fingertips.   
“You look like you got beat up pretty bad. Is Dean ok?” When you mention his brother, a curiously shuttered look falls over his eyes, and he nods absently. You let your hand drop away.  
“You were worried about me?” you say softly, and he nods. “I’m flattered! Let’s get that cut cleaned.” You indicate for him to sit on the bed as you pull out your first aid bag and begin cleaning the dried and fresh blood from the cut. As you do, you notice him gazing at you. Embarrassed, you drop your eyes…and notice an even larger gash under his shirt, going from shoulder to chest. You let out an involuntary gasp as you pull the plaid collar away, and give him a reproving look.  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he shrugs, then winces slightly, and you give him half a smile as you unbutton his shirt and draw it away from his shoulders.  
“You are nothing but trouble, Sam Winchester.” You say playfully as you clean the larger cut, and pull out a sterile packet with a suture and thread. “I have to close this. Want a nip to dull the pain?” he nods, and you rummage in your bag for the Scotch you just packed, handing him the bottle. He takes a deep swig, and you wait a few minutes before moving in to close the wound. You suture it with quick motion, deftly tugging the thread in neat knots around itself, clipping it short when you’ve finished.  
“All set.” You say, gathering up the blood-soaked pads and turning to begin wrapping a bandage around his chest. Your fingers graze over his skin, still covered with a sweaty sheen, and you notice for the first time since removing his shirt how built he is. The black tattoo on his chest just inches from the gash you just sutured, the play of his muscles under the dirty, sweat-glistening skin. Your breath catches for a moment, and you suddenly realize he’s looking up at you, hazel eyes catching in the light of the room. You set the bandage in place and remove your hands, embarassed, until he catches one of them as you begin to walk away.  
“Come back.” He murmurs, and you turn to him, startled. He’s half-leaning back on the bed, his arm extended to catch yours, thick hair falling back away from his face. You stare at him a moment, then come forward, almost mesmerized by his eyes, until your gaze drifts across the expanse of muscle on his chest and abdomen. You bite your lip, stepping back towards the foot of the bed, and Sam stands in front of you.  
Without saying a word, he leans down and touches his lips to yours in a heavy, promising kiss. You respond eagerly, sliding your hands up his hard chest and around his neck, tangling your fingers in his thick brown hair as you kiss him back, smiling against his mouth as he nips at your bottom lip. You open your mouth and allow him entrance, his tongue probing gently at your mouth at first, quickly changing to a heated exchange of breath gasps as his big hands wander down over your figure, discarding your blouse and sliding your jeans off your hips, his long fingers making short work of the buttons.  
Breathlessly you pull and tug at his jeans, and he growls softly in his throat as he strips them off, along with his underwear, and pulls you close up against him as his fingers work off your bra and panties. Panting against his chest, you pull his head down for another kiss, raw, heated passion rising in your breast, and he lifts you from the floor briefly, only to toss you down on the bed. You give him a smirk, stretching out on the bed, and crook a finger in invitation.  
He’s on you almost before you know it, his heavy, muscled frame somehow still light upon yours as he kisses your neck, throat, and down across your chest. You let out a strangled gasp as his erect shaft presses against your thigh, sliding along it as he works his way up your body to kiss your lips again. You thread your fingers in his long, soft hair, pulling him down to you, moaning out into his mouth as he presses into you, beginning a thrusting rhythym that is almost too much for you to bear. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you to him as he breathes hard against your shoulder, his soft grunts matching your gasps and moans as your body arches up to meet his.  
As you whimper and thrust against him in silent plea for release, you feel him smile against your neck, panting as he accelerates, your hips bucking up to meet his as he gives several more deep, penetrating strokes. Your walls clench around him in ecstacy as your body shudders with the force of the release rippling through you, and your fingers dig in to his taut, muscled back as he tenses, letting out a deep, gutteral moan as he shudders through his own orgasm, pulsing and twitching within you as you lie breathless against the sheets, hair mussed and strewn about.  
You smile up at him, almost smirking, and reach up to push his hair out of his eyes.  
“See?” you murmur as he shifts off you to lie on his back beside, and you turn to look down at him. “Sam Winchester. Nothing but trouble.”


End file.
